


Through the Nighttime, Through the Dawn

by tony_snark



Category: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith
Genre: Canon - Book, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Porn, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tony_snark/pseuds/tony_snark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary dreams of him often, and tonight she dreams of him again.  He watches her from the shadows of her bedroom.  Mary doesn’t always beckon him, but she beckons him tonight.  His grey eyes look so mournful and his expression betrays his deep melancholy.  She had, just after she lost him, called to him every time she saw him, but he never came to her.</p>
<p>Tonight is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Nighttime, Through the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DMitchell1985](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMitchell1985/gifts).



Mary dreams of him often, and tonight she dreams of him again.  He watches her from the shadows of her bedroom.  Mary doesn’t always beckon him, but she beckons him tonight.  His grey eyes look so mournful and his expression betrays his deep melancholy.  She had, just after she lost him, called to him every time she saw him, but he never came to her.

Tonight is different.  Tonight he emerges from the shadows and walks to her bed.  She sits up, throws back the covers, grabs his arm, and pulls him into bed with her.  His icy skin shocks her and she suppresses a flinch.  Still, he looks well if pale.  The blood is gone.  There was so much blood.  His eyes are wide open and clear even if they are sad.

“Just hold me,” she says.  He obliges her by pulling her into his arms and lying with her.

Moments later his body tenses before he sits up abruptly.  She misses his presence immediately and sits up with him.  He’s no longer sad.  His eyebrows furrows and his mouth forms into a severe line.  She follows his line of vision and jumps when she sees another pair of eyes watching them from the darkness.

“Why did you follow me here?  I only wanted to see her for a moment, just a moment,” Abraham hisses.

The shadow speaks in hushed but firm tones.  “We must leave.”

“No!” Mary cries.  She takes a deep breath.  “Please do not leave.  _Please_.”  She wraps her arms tightly around Abraham’s neck and shoulders.  “Please stay with me.” 

All the while the shadow watches them.  Abraham looks to the shadow again, clearly at a loss, and _who is he_? Mary wonders.  “Show yourself,” she demands.

Only a moment’s hesitation before out of the darkness emerges a handsome, young man.  She knows his face from somewhere.  _Who is he_? she wonders again.  Death himself, she imagines, come to take Abraham away from her again.  But, somehow she knows even if they are silent.  They glance at each other furtively, Abraham frowns just so, and she _knows_.

“You’ve replaced me with _him_ ,” she cries as she begins to pummel Abraham’s chest as hard and furiously as she can muster.  He grabs her wrists, and his grip is steel, solid and unbreakable.  She stops struggling.

“Do not wake Tad,” he whispers before softly pressing his lips to hers.

“What about _him_?” she demands.  Abraham looks conflicted, eyebrows knitting together and mouth askew, utterly confounded.  “You have… _known_ each other before,” she says just as she realizes.  She phrases it delicately though she wants to scream it, wants to hit him again, wants to demand they tell her how this is possible.  When he shares yet another long glance with this man, that’s all she can stand.  “Show me.”  Abraham and this man look startled, and Abraham seems as though he may bolt after all.  “ _Show me_ ,” she repeats.

He lets go of her wrists, and she sits back against the headboard and watches.  She watches as Abraham looks up at the man with a small frown, watches as the man leans down and smashes his lips against Abraham’s mouth.  The man runs his hands through Abraham’s hair as Abraham pulls the man down until he’s straddling Abraham’s thighs in _their_ bed. 

Mary can _feel_ her blood coursing through her veins, hot and fast, can feel her heart pounding, can feel the inside of her belly rolling.  They remove their shirts, and she pushes away from the headboard.  She wraps her arms around Abraham’s waist and runs her mouth and tongue down his neck as she unbuttons his trousers.  He turns his head to kiss her while the man slips from view.  Moments later Abraham shudders and whines into her mouth.  She looks down to see that Abraham’s trousers are gone, that the man’s head bobs between Abraham’s legs, a sight that sets off a dull ache between her own thighs.

Abraham pulls her beside him and runs his hands under her nightgown, over her belly, and her breasts.  She yanks the damned thing over her head as he leans in to lick and suck at her breasts and slips a hand into her underpants.  Mary gasps when he puts his fingers inside her, but Abraham responds by whimpering the man’s name.  Henry.  She’s certain she’s heard it before.

As she attempts to recall from where, Henry pulls away and pulls off his trousers.  She studies Henry’s face as over Abraham’s shoulder as Abraham turns to her and pushes her onto her back with one hand.  Henry really is very handsome, and she thinks, shamefully, that she should like him to touch her as well.

She has little time to consider that further because Abraham pulls his hand away and pushes inside of her.  She bites back a cry.  It has been a long time, and it hurts a little.  She wraps her legs around him just as Henry slots himself behind him and begins biting neck.  Abraham, himself, cries out suddenly, sucks in a ragged breath, and stills.  Initially she thinks he has peaked, but he’s still firm inside her.  After a moment, they all start moving together.  _Oh_.

She studies Abraham’s face as his countenance flits between discomfort and pleasure.  He features were always wonderfully expressive if not the most handsome.  She glances up at Henry again who bites Abraham’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood and laps at it hungrily. This time Abraham does climax and stills again.

“Stop,” he says to Henry who pulls back as Abraham pulls out of her.  Abraham is all apologies.  She didn’t climax.

“You needn’t worry,” she reassures him, hiding her slight disappointment.  She decides that she’s wants to see Henry finish making love to Abraham.  She _needs_ to see it.  She might accuse Henry of being a mind reader for he straightaway coaxes Abraham onto his back and spreads his legs apart.  He climbs for fully onto the bed as he shoves a pillow beneath the small of Abraham’s back before grasping his hips and thrusting into him. Abraham’s face animates at that.  She reaches a hand down between her legs and touches her she watches.

Henry stops suddenly, and Abraham looks as confused as Mary feels.  “Abraham is going to take care of you,” the he says.  He waves her over, points to Abraham, and she crawls toward him.  Abraham begins to touch her, but Henry shakes his head.  Though Abraham is still confused, she catches his meaning.

She straddles Abraham, thighs on either side of his face, and faces Henry.  It’s so erotic and intimate that she can hardly stand it.  They never did this while he lived, and she knows now, with certainty, that this is a dream.  So, she grinds down as Abraham grasps her hips and licks into her.  Henry watches for a long moment before he starts moving again.  Abraham moans against her and the vibration along with his tongue sets her blood afire anew, sends jolts of electricity through her.  Feeling daring, she leans down and takes Abraham into her mouth.  She’s unpracticed, and his thrusting into her mouth is unpleasant, so she stops.  She glances at Henry and wonders how he became so skilled at it.  She wants to kiss him.

Again, he reads her thoughts.  He leans toward her, and she knows that he’s going to kiss her.  She lets him.  His mouth is a shock of cold and so is his hand as he fondles a breast and licks into her mouth.  She has never kissed another man besides Abraham, never let another man touch her so intimately, and it’s all too much.  She peaks then, bucking against Abraham’s face.  Henry tumbles right after her, and they murmur Abraham’s name into each other’s mouth.

She moves to lie next to Abraham who pulls her to him tightly and kisses her face and her neck.  She notices that the bite mark that Henry left is gone.  “I love you,” Abraham murmurs over and over into the crook of her neck.

“You have Henry now,” she says, and all the anguish and heartbreak comes rushing back.  He replaced her. 

He shakes his head.  “I could not replace you.”  He kisses her neck again, repeats his proclamations as Henry dresses.

“We must go, Abraham,” he says urgently as he yanks on his pants.

“Please just go and leave us be,” she pleads.  Henry hesitates but disappears back into the shadows.  Mary snuggles closer to her husband.

He’s so cold. 

\----------

Mary wakes as dawn’s light streams into her room.  She lies in bed for a long moment and her face heats as she recalls the details of last night’s dreams.  Indecent, utterly indecent, and she has no idea what made her conjure it.  She rolls out of bed with a stretch and walks over to her vanity.  As she leans down to pick up a hairbrush she spots the bruises on her wrists.  She stares at the bruises with wide eyes.  _Have I done that?_  

With some trepidation, she lifts her nightgown and discovers matching bruises on her hips and thighs.  She brushes her fingertips over them as she inspects herself in the mirror and can almost feel Abraham’s icy hands.  She wonders, not for the first time since his murder, if she has gone mad.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Through the Morning, Through the Night" by Alison Krauss And Robert Plant. Unbeta'ed. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Written for Danielle who has been amazingly supportive as I rant and rave about the fic I am writing, want to write, and need to edit (and who is a pretty damned good writer herself). When I told her that I had visceral "Mabery" thing in mind that was little more than sex and emotions, she encouraged me to write it. I hope that that you get half as much joy and fun out of reading this as I do out of your fic. I normally don't write PWP stories, so forgive me if the sex scenes are ridiculous or underwhelming.


End file.
